


your deity; a divine proxy

by constanted



Series: fjorclay week 2020! [4]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Class Changes, Bard!Caduceus, Commune, Ficlet, FullPaladin!Fjord, M/M, fjorclay week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-02-23 11:02:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23810515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/constanted/pseuds/constanted
Summary: Fjord finds something good and perfect at the bottom of the ocean. Caduceus inspires.Other things stay the same.(or: magical secrets - by tenth level, you have plundered magical knowledge from a wide spectrum of disciplines.)
Relationships: Caduceus Clay/Fjord
Series: fjorclay week 2020! [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1704592
Comments: 12
Kudos: 89





	your deity; a divine proxy

**Author's Note:**

> hello! i said i wasn't going to do something for this prompt! oops! for context, caduceus is a grave cleric 1/glamour bard 10, and fjord is an ancients paladin 11. this is set vaguely around the same time the holy symbol talk happened in canon.

“I learned something new,” Caduceus smiles, “If I’d continued with my original path, I’d’ve learned this a bit earlier, but, well. Better late than never, yeah?”

“Is this a secret?” Fjord asks. Caduceus looks plain _excited_ , in one of those rare occasions when his expression is entirely readable as what it is. Unprepared speech, anxious grinning, wild look in his eyes. Like when he learned the sword was Hers and then claimed to absolutely _know_ it was meant for Fjord.

“I’m just saying—I can help you talk to Her. Three questions. You can’t get—specifics. But we can get… I mean, we can get specifics so long as the answer is… yes-or-no.”

Fjord’s a bit nervous whenever Caduceus promises some odd magical stunt, because it usually involves weird fey shit that Fjord does not understand, it’s magic that feels like summer-sun and dead-of-winter all at once. But, well, he likes spending time with Caduceus, trusts Caduceus for all his strangeness, because he understands certain things. Has always understood those things.

(A proper look at each other in that hellhole’s excuse for a kitchen, and an understanding, _You follow Her, too._ Not in the way I was supposed to, Caduceus claims, and not very well, Fjord claims. Well, Caduceus says, perhaps combined we can make one good acolyte.)

And the inn in Rexxentrum is boring, to say the least, and Fjord’s not got much else to do other than maybe watch Yasha read the book he gave her while Nott does her usual book reading along with suspicious stares at Yasha. Or he could watch Jester attempt to hit Caleb and Beau and Thaddeus with el _dritch blasts_ as training. And, well.

There are answers that dreams don’t grant.

“Sure,” Fjord says, “Just—you’re not trying to _enchant_ the Wildmother, right? I’m—“

“I’d be a fool to try that. This is called _commune_. I’ve seen people do it.” Caduceus plucks some incense and candles out of his bag, ignites them, starts muttering his usual Sylvan verbal component, dims the lights with a _thaumaturgy_. And the man claims to not be using any enchantments, but, well—he’s got that otherworldly look to him that he gets when he’s trying to inspire, strange and beautiful, face lit up by colorful flames.

The windows burst open. A breeze embraces them, like in the dreams, and tiny, pink, spectral petals circle the both of them.

Holy shit. And Caduceus is always saying his holy magic’s rusty.

“First question,” Caduceus says.

“Er. Hey, Wildmother.It’s Fjord. Your paladin. Hi. You claimed that I was… nearly caught by something _wrong_. The day You found me. Is that what took Vandran?” Something like an apology. Something like a hand holding his—that’s just Caduceus, actually. But. Something like a kiss to the forehead. “That’s a yes, then.”

Caduceus squeezes his hands. “Second question.”

“Why me?” he asks, “Why did you save me?”

A non-answer. “Yes-or-no,” Caduceus says, “But I’d say—my Lady, if I were to ask for affirmation in my next statement, would that count as our third question? I—I haven’t talked with You in so long, and I’m sorry for that, and I promise to do more in the future.” A _go-ahead_ , gesture. A hand forms out of petals and ruffles Caduceus’ hair, and he smiles, flushes. “But—I think She saved you because you—well, we’ve talked about dreams, before. You and I. You said you’d loved the ocean. You loved Her, and She loved you in turn, and so She embraced you when She saw the chance. Gave you a gift not as a reward, but because… because you’re you. Because you can affect change. And you want to. Right, Mother?”

An affirmative warmth. Caduceus gets that excited look again.

“Um. So. Third question.” Thinks on his oath. He knows his answers, has stoked his own light, and, well—he’d like to see Caduceus happy. “Because this fucker’s not going to ask, will—will his family reject him for not being all—properly cleric-y?”

“I—“ Caduceus glares, and there are petals wrapping around him, almost teasing. Caduceus’ glare ends as he looks at the ground. They won’t. That’s good. Fjord says that out loud, and Caduceus, still lit by flame and surrounded by smoke even as the petals fade, says, “Might mean that they’re dead.”

“I doubt that."

Caduceus laughs. "But—we have a quest for you now, don’t we? Find whatever thing took your captain, the thing that tried to take you.”

“I have an idea,” Fjord mutters, because he does, and the one woman who could tell him more is dead undersea. “And I phrased that last question wrong. If that whole ceremony proved anything, it’s that you’re _plenty_ cleric-y.”

“Don’t flatter me, _green-knight_ , you know I— _oh,_ ” and his face contorts as his eyes take on that scary-beautiful glow they take when he’s focused on figuring something out, “Oh. Thank you.”

A hug. “We’ll ask more questions tomorrow.”

“That we will.”

“It’s a date.”

“I—suppose so.”

“I’m going to go practice with this new whistle—you will not like the noise it makes. It’s not for music reasons.”

“I—I am _well_ aware of the noise it makes. I share a room with you.”

“Oh. Yes. Sorry.”

**Author's Note:**

> i see a way to make caduceus more creepy and fey AND to yell about how much he cares about aesthetics, i write it.
> 
> comment and kudo, please! love you!


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